


like once in a life

by redledgers



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Canon Related, Drift Compatibility, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Devil Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22367947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers
Summary: When the kaiju invade Los Angeles, Chloe Decker joins the resistance.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 25
Kudos: 154
Collections: catchingthewindfav





	like once in a life

**Author's Note:**

> endless thanks to [moandiary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary) for the beta and of course my gratitude to everyone in FH for being the reason this went from a "what if" to 1k words within the span of 8 minutes.

The day the kaiju came was the day her world turned upside down. 

She remembers the screaming, the news broadcasts, the way her bed rocked when her mother threw herself upon it because he was dead. _Her father was dead._ Because he had protected innocents. She remembers her own screaming, her voice hoarse and weak at the end of the day because someone needed to step up, and that someone was her.

* * *

“I won’t let you.”

Chloe stands at the railing, the whites of her knuckles the only indication that she was unhappy. Well, unhappy was one way of putting it. Furious, maybe. Determined, yes. She looks out over the Shatterdome, the familiar sounds of mechanical whirring and people just doing their jobs settling on her bones. “I can do it,” she says, turning back to the Marshal. She can’t help the way her jaw sets when she says the words, but she knows deep in her heart that she can. She _must._

“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I said I won’t let you.” Marshal Munroe levels her gaze at Chloe. “You know the risks, Lieutenant, and you know no one’s done it before.” The other woman steps away and beckons Chloe to follow. They cross the steel grates of the overpass and enter the control room. The Marshal’s office.

Someone passes Munroe a folder and a coffee. Chloe can’t remember who they are, if they’re new, if they’re no one. Too many people pass through these halls. Not enough survive. “I don’t need a partner,” she says. She’s made it this far on her own. Even Dan had been a poor substitute, and now worked in another department. It was safer that way, they had said. _We have a daughter and she needs one of us,_ Dan had said.

“You do if you want to get back out in the field.” Out in a Jaeger. After the disaster of Palmetto, she hadn’t been able to help, not the way she wanted to, not the way she deserved to after years of hard work. Training younger recruits wasn’t where she belonged. Munroe sips her coffee and finds a seat at the control panel. “Find a partner or don’t. I trust you, Chloe, and that means trusting you to make the right decision.”

* * *

“I can’t do it, Dan,” she says, slamming her tray on the table and sitting heavily. With all the resolve left within her, she slams a fork into her food. “I’m not going toe to toe with every recruit in the Shatterdome to find someone.” No one would volunteer, that’s for sure. 

“And hello to you too, Chloe,” Dan replies into his cup. She doesn’t like the way he studies her, but he knows her the best out of everyone here, both inside and outside of a Jaeger. It hurts sometimes, but she’s found him to be a better friend and confidant now that they aren’t in each other’s heads and losing each other’s hearts. His hand is warm where it comes to rest on her wrist, stilling her fight with the fork. “Look, it’s the only way you can go back out there. You know it’s for the best.”

Chloe sighs. He's right, as much as it pains her to acknowledge it. She can't have a death wish with a daughter. She doesn't _want_ to have a death wish. She just wants to show everyone that she isn't weak, that she never has been. That she could do something that no one else had done. As if it would matter. She’s always been a strong-minded pilot, but the simulators aren’t nearly the same as actual combat.

“Just give it a shot. A couple of days. If nothing pans out, I’ll help you figure something out.” Dan shrugs. “But I’m not going back in there.” She knows he doesn't have the faintest clue how to help, or if he did, he certainly wouldn't tell her. It _almost_ hurts.

"Should be another incursion soon," comes Ella's voice, which is the only warning they get before the tiny, energetic scientist plops down beside Chloe and reaches to steal one of her french fries. "Do you think they know they're being predictable? Does it matter?"

"It matters because without their patterns and without your brain, a whole bunch of people would die." Chloe winces. "Or, more than usual." She hates how much death is a part of their lives. It's unavoidable and yet she wishes she could stop it once and for all.

"Aww, thanks babe. Love the vote of confidence." And then Ella launches into what is clearly a rehearsed speech about the movie marathon she was planning for the weekend. Bonding that wasn't from forced team building exercises. Chloe appreciated the distractions, the tiny bits of normalcy they clung to, as if they could go back to it when this was all over. As if normal, _true normal,_ was just out of reach. "And I can count on Trixie to be there, right?"

Chloe doesn't remember what normal is like. "Huh?"

Ella snaps her fingers in front of her. "You're coming, right? With Trixie?"

"Yeah, of course." She must not sound convincing enough because Dan shoots her a look. 

But Ella just claps delightedly and pulls her into a hug. "Been a while, Decker. I can't wait!" And then she's off to the next table. 

Chloe suddenly feels like she's going to be sick, and she all but bolts from the table to find respite in her room. She doesn't miss Dan's concerned face. She wishes she did.

* * *

“Oh no, now that simply won’t do.” Feet appear in her line of vision. Well, shoes, really. Shoes on the mat, where they weren’t allowed. Her gaze travels from fancy shoes, up pressed slacks, stopping at the hand she sees extended toward her.

“I don’t need your help.” Chloe sets aside the bo staff and hauls herself to her feet, doing her best not to favor the shoulder that now ached. She would figure out what exactly hurt later, in the privacy of her own room. The man who stands before her is tall, dark, and the barest look of concern flickers across his admittedly handsome face. The room cleared out when the fight ended, sans this man, apparently, who she has never seen before in her life.

“And yet you just let that man strike you.”

“I didn’t.” She crouches to pick up her staff and stalks over to the rack. It makes a satisfying, if small, thunk when she shoves it in place. The man follows her; she knows because she feels him behind her. Closer than she wants him to be. She turns around and tries to push past him, but he’s so tall and it feels like he’s everywhere.

“You did! I saw it.” He flashes a grin so bright and so ferocious that she wants to punch it. “You could have moved and you didn’t. Ergo, you let him strike you.”

"So what if I did," she grumbles. She's tired, she's sore, and she's running out of people in the program to match with. Munroe would never call out to another program. It's too risky to travel these days.

"My name is Lucifer," he says, as if he can’t read the sheer amount of _go away and leave me alone_ that radiates off of her. "Lucifer Morningstar."

She almost snorts. "You're kidding."

"I most certainly am not."

He reaches out, for a handshake perhaps, but she snatches her staff again instinctively, holding it to his chest. "What exactly are you doing here?"

He doesn't seem fazed in the least. "I had a favor to give and, well, sometimes I leave the city to do it." The city. Los Angeles, destroyed, rebuilt, _remade._ Chloe hasn't been outside in years. Lucifer gently pushes the offending staff aside and steps away. "I much prefer the den of iniquity that is Lux over this post-modern metal… thing.”

At her bewildered look, he continues. “Lux is, of course, the last bastion of pleasure in L.A." He takes a chance to lean closer so she feels his breath on her bare shoulder as he says that last bit. But he deftly avoids her jab when it comes, though he cannot escape her glare.

"Okay, but here. In our training room." She doesn't dare ask about the favor. She's not sure she wants to know. 

“A great deal of people exited this room rather quickly, and I thought I might investigate the cause. And then,” he gestures to her, encompassing her entire person in the movement, “I thought you might need a hand. Or two.” He grins again, and this time it’s just shy of lecherous. 

“I’m fine,” she says. She’d be more fine if he would leave her alone.

“Are you?” Lucifer _tsks_ and leans close again. ”Tell me, darling, what is it that you desire more than anything else?” 

She feels like a wave crashes against her, but the feeling abates almost as quickly as it had arrived. He looks like he’s expecting her to tell him her deepest darkest secrets, but right now she wants a shower and story time with her daughter. “We’re done here.” Chloe slips by him and makes her way to the door. 

“But we’ve only just begun!” he calls after her. “I haven’t even got your name yet!”

She leaves him behind. 

* * *

“Will you read another chapter?” Trixie asks as Chloe tucks the bookmark between worn pages and gently closes the book. 

Chloe kisses her forehead. “No, monkey, you need to sleep.”

Her daughter is as every bit as stubborn as she is and snuggles closer. It’s not impossible for Chloe to leave, but it makes it very difficult. “Then will you tell me about when you used to fight kaiju with Dad?”

Chloe sighs, but it’s mostly just an act. She slings her arm around Trixie’s shoulders and rests her cheek on her daughter’s head. “It was scary,” she starts slowly. “But sometimes you have to do scary things to protect the people you love.”

Trixie knows some of this already, from the other children, from Dan, from Chloe, and just because she’s incredibly perceptive. But Chloe tells her about the training, the first kaiju they fought together, how she had been terrified, but how she knew she wasn’t alone. It’s not the life she wanted to live, and she certainly doesn’t want it for Trixie, but it is theirs to share.

She falls asleep in Trixie’s bed that night, and it almost feels like old times.

* * *

Chloe sees him again the next week, at the same time, lingering in the same hallway the training room is in. He leans against the wall, all casual grace and ease, and the way he acts like he belongs in these hallways irks her. 

“Where’s the crowd?” he asks, looking up when the door closes. 

Chloe tries to brush by him, but he steps into the middle of the hall, filling the space with his frame. She stops short and looks up. “The what?”

“The crowd of sore and bruised men and women who seemed to leave you here last week.” The man who claims to be called Lucifer eyes her. “Is this not a common occurrence for you?” She sees lust and a hint of admiration in his gaze. 

“Lieutenant Decker.” Munroe’s voice cuts through their conversation. When Chloe turns, she doesn’t miss the way Munroe’s eyes skate over Lucifer with a little bit of hunger. Like she was forgetting that Chloe was even supposed to be debriefing. “Who’s this?”

“Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar.” He smiles in a way that should be charming as he steps around Chloe and extends his hand toward Munroe. Chloe just finds it nauseating. 

But Munroe is already enraptured. “A new recruit?” 

Lucifer looks to Chloe, leering a little. “Oh, Lieutenant, you never said you were looking for a _recruit._ ”

“I didn’t say anything,” Chloe replies. “Marshal, about today…” An apology is probably something that she doesn’t need to give. But another dwindling batch of recruits had shown nothing remotely resembling compatibility. She is tired.

Munroe looks at her watch. Or, where there would be a watch if she wore one. “I got time. He busy?”

While Chloe gapes, Lucifer brightens. “I’ve already had my meeting with Dr. Martin. My evening is yours.” He steps toward the Marshal like he’s thinking about taking her somewhere Chloe doesn’t even want to imagine. 

Munroe, to her credit, holds firm. It doesn’t stop her from eyeing his suit appreciatively before saying, “Decker, you’ve been through every willing, able body in this building. I know you’re running out of options, and I hate to see one of my best pilots sidelined.”

“Marshal…” 

But Munroe continues. “Humor me.” She points to Lucifer. “Second door on the right. Get something on you can fight in.” 

“With pleasure,” Lucifer says, a thrumming purr catching on his words, and he waggles his eyebrows at Chloe before disappearing into the men’s locker room. 

* * *

Standing on the opposite side of the mat from him, Chloe is once again reminded of just how tall this man is. So much that his borrowed sweatpants were cuffed in an effort to look stylish instead of just too short. He bounces on the balls of his feet, suddenly full of what reads like nervous energy. Chloe can tell it isn’t. He’s just eager.

Her staff is heavy in her hand, and for a few minutes, she honestly thinks about throwing the fight. She could do it easily. Lucifer is clearly strong; she can see the lean muscle on his arms and tries not to think about what he looks like beneath his undershirt. She can't tell if he's had any staff training, and it might not even matter. Munroe’s eyes are heavy on her, and Chloe is beginning to think this is a challenge more than anything else. To see how far she is willing to go before she gives up. 

She is Chloe Decker and she does not give up.

As soon as she steps onto the mat, she watches his whole body shift, the refined edges of a rich man smoothing down into those of a predator with eyes that glitter with mirth. _He thinks this is a game,_ she realizes, even as he sizes her up. But this is not her game, and he is soon to learn it.

Her staff makes contact with his wrist, the satisfying thwack buried beneath his almost girlish shriek. "That _hurt,_ " he says, stepping back and shaking his wrist out. 

"Yes, that's the point." Chloe rolls her eyes and retreats back to her end of the mat. She waits for him to decide if he wants to keep going, secretly hoping he will turn tail and leave.

He does not. 

Munroe’s watchful eye is heavy on her back, marking every strike, every dodge, every time he dances just out of reach or she spins around his staff. Her lungs begin to burn, but she can’t go down and he _won’t_ go down.

He taps her hip, and she returns in kind, striking his broad back with the length of her staff. She can hear the woosh of his breath as he stumbles forward, and she follows, ready to put an end to her weariness. Her body aches, and she thinks it unfair that he came in fresh. Still, one more strike would end this infinite loop of give and take.

“Stop.” Munroe stands from where she’d been sitting at the edge of the room and marches over. Chloe barely manages to catch herself, using her staff to absorb the energy that had nowhere else to go. She refuses to fall. 

Lucifer straightens, and he looks unnervingly at ease. “Did I do something wrong?” he asks, speaking to Munroe but never letting his eyes wander from Chloe. 

Munroe’s voice haunts Chloe for the rest of the day. “You’re hired, Morningstar.”

* * *

“What do you _mean_ you’re failing?” Chloe can feel some level of rage beginning to build in her chest, and she tries to knock it down with several grounding breathes. 

Lucifer just looks at her and shrugs. “It’s not like any of this makes any sense,” he says, gesturing widely to the booklet and some painstakingly written notes. His handwriting is so perfect, Chloe wonders if he had re-copied the words from frantically scribbled bits and pieces as he tried to keep up with the lecture. “These creatures are evaluated on a scale, which I suppose I understand, but what is all of _this?”_

“This,” Chloe says, sitting down at the table with a sigh, “is science. Biology.”

“Well it’s rubbish, and I can thank dear old Dad for that.” Lucifer shuts the booklet and looks at her. “There’s only one type of biology I like.”

“Yeah, I bet.” She reaches over to slide his notes closer, and skims the pages. Her cheeks color when she realizes what it is he’s written. "Maybe you should start paying attention," she mumbles, shoving the papers aside.

"I assure you I was paying _very_ close attention."

Chloe sits back in her chair. She glances at the ceiling as if it might offer some answers, or at least inner peace, if such a thing existed. Then she turns her attention to Lucifer. "If you can't get it together in the next week, they _will_ kick you out." _And I can't let that happen,_ she thinks. 

His face clouds, confusion and perhaps a little bit of fear flickering across it. It only lasts a second though, because he too settles back, stretching long legs beneath the table. "I will not be kicked out, Lieutenant. I have been there and done that, and I would not recommend it."

"Where?" she asks without a second thought. If she's going to drift with him, she might as well try to get to know him.

"Hmm?"

"Where did you…" She bites her lip before forging ahead. "What school kicked you out?" Chloe can guess it was some posh boarding school, and from what she knows about his habits and his lifestyle, she can also guess why they'd done it. Someone had to have told him he was bad for him to adopt the persona he never let slip. She wonders if it began in that moment. 

"Don't," he says, abruptly standing, his chair toppling over and startling Chloe.

"What?"

"If you want to know, just ask Milton or a _priest._ " He spins and heads for the door. She can see the hard lines of his shoulders, the last line of defense against the emotions that seem to set the room on fire.

Chloe stands, stepping around the table to follow. "Lucifer…" 

He holds out his arm to stop her. "I've told you, Lieutenant. I _am_ the Devil."

And he leaves her, leaves his books and notes, and slams the classroom door behind him. 

* * *

Training is hell. Chloe still isn’t sure if this is Munroe testing her or if he’s meant to be an actual honest-to-God partner. But as good as Lucifer is at virtually everything, he’s twice as infuriating. Chloe can count on two hands the amount of times she has been propositioned, but she has lost count of his devilish quips. This is Los Angeles after a major catastrophe, she gets the desire to try and make your life into something else, but if he wasn’t already regularly visiting the in house therapist, Chloe would have actually made an effort to have him removed from the program. She tries not to think about any stirring fondness she has for his presence in her life and the monotony that vanished when he arrived.

Lucifer invites them all to Lux after two weeks of training, and so she finds herself in a pulsing nightclub alongside Ella, Dan, and Linda on a Friday night, searching the crowd for anyone who might be him. The music is loud and the light that scatters across the room is bright, and Chloe already knows she’s going to have a headache. She can't see the now familiar stature among the crowd, and wonders if it means she can go home. 

“He’ll come down in a minute,” someone says, and Chloe startles, turning to see a woman who looks like she would step on Chloe. The woman’s eyes roam Chloe’s body without a hint of shame, and she smiles. It’s almost feral. “Maybe sooner.”

She feels like she’s a piece of meat. “And you’re…?”

“Mazikeen! I see you’ve already met the Lieutenant.” Lucifer’s voice is exuberant behind her, and Chloe takes a half a step away from the woman, trying to hide another startled flinch. She ends up bumping into Lucifer, who doesn’t even seem to mind. He throws his arm around her shoulders. “And these are the Lieutenant’s friends, Miss Lopez and Douche. Pardon, Daniel.”

Linda waves. “Hi Maze,” she says, a little too loudly over the music.

Mazikeen smirks.

They’re given free rein over the alcohol and a private booth for the evening, and Ella is on the dance floor before anyone else has time to follow. Lucifer is all too eager to tag along behind, leaving the rest of them to disperse. Chloe has barely sat down before Mazikeen reappears with a drink and sets it in front of her. “Lucifer asked me to make something you like.”

“Thanks.” Chloe grabs hold of the glass for lack of something better to do. It takes her far too long to finish the drink, her quiet musings interrupted by a tipsy Linda, but it’s a welcome distraction.

“I just can’t believe I’m drift compatible with this asshole,” Chloe says, her tongue a little freer between the drink and the presence of a very good therapist.

It looks like Linda wants to say something, but suddenly Lucifer settles beside her. His hair is disheveled and he holds a glass of whiskey, which he proceeds to knock back with ease. “You’re drift compatible with that asshole,” he says, motioning toward where Dan was standing at the bar. “At least mine is ready and willing.”

“Not a chance in Hell.” Still, Chloe would have to be blind to say she didn’t find him attractive even after spending two weeks in some approximation of bootcamp with him. 

Lucifer places his glass carefully on the table. “How topical, actually. Linda, would you mind?” 

Chloe watches Linda raise an eyebrow, and in some unspoken agreement, she slips out of the booth and wanders off. Something in the air shifts, and the noise of the club seems to fuzz out when Lucifer turns back to her. She regrets the drink, as if just one was enough to throw her off kilter, but she knows it isn’t the drink that’s making her feel this way.

When he speaks, it is very clear that this conversation is for them alone, the words buried beneath the music that has overwhelmed everyone else. “Doctor Martin has informed me that I should ensure you are fully aware of who I am before we drift.” He worries at his cufflinks, his gaze flicking down to his knees before returning to her face. “Lieutenant, I am the Devil. I have not lied to you about this, nor anything else.”

"Lucifer…" She can't think of what to say, wonders if it's the atmosphere or the scenario, but she knows what she probably _should_ say. _No, you're not. If that's what you want to believe. You're insane and I can't keep doing this._

“I do not have the proof to show you, but you need to trust me,” he says when her silence goes on long enough. 

Chloe isn’t even sure what she’d want as proof. Horns, maybe? A tail? Something other than the man who sits beside her who she knows is as human as they come? But she doesn’t _want_ any proof. “Okay,” she says finally.

“Okay?” Lucifer looks a bit lost, and she catches his hand reaching for the empty glass before deciding to rest almost casually against the table.

“Okay.” Trauma she can deal with. Trauma that was being dealt with by a therapist was even better when it came to drifting. And while Linda hadn’t said anything, Chloe didn’t need to be a doctor to put together the pieces. It wasn’t like Dan had had the best home life either, and she had managed just fine. They’d both managed. 

“Right then.” He straightens his jacket and stands, reaching a hand out toward her. His quick changes in demeanor don’t strike her as odd anymore, though she wonders if they ever did in the first place. “Care for a dance, Lieutenant?” 

Chloe shakes her head. “No, I…” Dancing wasn’t like fighting, no matter how many times people tried to make the comparison. Especially not the dancing that was done at a club. 

“Oh come on, darling, please?” 

It’s the drink, perhaps, or the pleading look on his face, that does Chloe in. It certainly isn’t the tiny seed of attraction that’s masked by annoyance and weariness. “Fine, one dance,” she says, sliding out of the booth. She lets him tug her into the middle of the dance floor, where Ella has already staked a claim, and for just a moment, she feels almost normal.

* * *

She takes longer than necessary to suit up. In part, it’s because she’s apprehensive. If they fail, Munroe will ask her to hang up her suit for good, to resign herself to never going back out into the field. But if they succeed… The anticipation buzzes beneath her skin, and she tries to savor it. 

Ella knocks on the doorframe. “Time to go,” she says. “Your old girl is ready to rumble.”

Chloe almost thinks she loved their jaeger more than she loved Dan. It’s not like she hasn’t spent the past few years looking wistfully at the towering metallic creature, but stepping back inside was something else.

The cockpit of Mojave Tracer is every bit as familiar as she remembers, except for the fact that Lucifer is waiting for her where Dan had so many times before. He grins at her, and for once it isn’t tinged by an undercurrent of desire. His helmet is tucked beneath his arm in a display of casual comfort, like he has always belonged here. She tries not to think about how good he manages to look in the drivesuit. 

As she moves through the space, she trails her fingers across the console, the rig, the cool metal that lives wherever she can reach it. She can feel Lucifer’s eyes on her, knows he’s drinking up the wonder of her reunion with the eyes of a starving man. “Are you ready?” she asks, turning to him.

“I’m always ready for you,” he says, and that desire is back. She can only manage to roll her eyes in response.

Ella’s voice comes over the comms. “Alright you two. This will be a short test, just to see how you connect with the neural system.” As she speaks, Chloe puts her helmet on and steps into the rig. It feels so right that she can’t help the smile that breaks out just for a bit. “Chloe, I know you’ve done this a bunch before, but I’m required to read off this boring list of things you need to remember. Lucifer, please pay attention.”

Chloe catches Lucifer’s head shift as his gaze moves from her to the rest of the hangar they can see beyond the windshield of Mojave. “Yes, Miss Lopez,” he says, putting on his own helmet.

Dan initiates the countdown once Ella has finished talking, and his voice settles any remaining nerves that have taken up in Chloe's stomach. Familiarity isn't something she thought she had needed, but she doesn't know if she would be able to step back into this role without at least some of Dan's support. At the count of one, the lights dim briefly, and Mojave rumbles to life. She feels the tickle of the neural pathways, and follows them.

The drift washes over her, and Chloe closes her eyes, settling back in to this familiar space. Something abuts the walls of her consciousness, a warm haze that she identifies as Lucifer trying to navigate the boundaries of the neural link. Mojave wakes around them and Chloe waits for the moment everything clicks into place.

It doesn't come. 

Instead, she sees flashes; her entire body is overwhelmed by swords and wings and Lucifer at the center of it all, bound and bloodied and tossed from a precipice. It burns and burns and then she is in a garden watching him with a man and a woman and it aches until she is falling again. And it is cold. It is cold and he is there, but he's scarred and red and terrifying. She can't see, but she can feel the panic, the fear. She can’t see, but she hears someone's voice, though she can't tell who, yelling through the comms. There is the rise and fall of cities, doors and ash, and a never ending labyrinth and _she can’t get out._

Mojave moves, jolting through her senses, crouching to shield from an attack that will never come. But she doesn't know that, _he_ didn't know that, and she sees wings again, wings that fall to the sand, bloodied and limp. Her back feels like it has been gouged, and then she is falling, falling, falling.

The last thing she hears is Dan’s panicked voice screaming through the comms, “What did you do to her?”

* * *

Lux pulses around her like a warm, living thing. Where the Shatterdome offers protection in its steel walls and high beams, Lux offers a thing like hope in the dark curtains and leather booths. She wouldn’t have guessed the truth behind it’s owner, not by a long shot. But she is here because it’s been three weeks and she’s not sure what else she can do outside of scream. “Come on, girlie,” Ella says, brushing past Chloe where she’s paused at the top of the staircase. The music picks back up, and Chloe catches Ella’s hand as they head to the bar.

“I didn’t think a crowded club was your choice of venue for a girl’s night out. What gives?” Ella asks once they’ve pushed their way through the crowd and claimed two seats at the glossy, dark lacquered bar.

“She’s here for him.” A drink appears in front of Chloe.

“Thanks, Maze,” Chloe says sheepishly. She tries to ignore the way she feels, like Maze is looming over her. Like suddenly the act of knowing has her wanting to run.

The woman, the _demon,_ rakes her gaze across Chloe’s form before placing another drink in front of Ella. “He’s upstairs.” She doesn’t seem to want to leave them alone. 

“I should’ve known.” Ella clinks her glass against Chloe’s. “Hope Dan didn’t scare him off too bad. Not his fault the rig broke.” 

Except it was his fault, she had learned when she came to. Lucifer had broken out of his rig to get to her. Chloe doesn’t hear Maze’s scoff over the ringing in her ears, and she gulps down her drink without tasting it. If he’s not going to come to her, she’ll go to him.

He doesn’t even bother to look up when she enters, smoothing her palms against her thighs as if she could will away her anxiety in a simple motion. She can’t, though. She’s tried.

“You’re the Devil,” she says, her voice ringing out in the vast space, and it’s almost like there isn’t a club downstairs with the silence that weighs heavy around them.

“I am,” is his response. Then, slowly, as if she might disappear if he moved too quickly, he looks toward her.

Lucifer’s hair is a mess, his eyes rimmed red, and Chloe can see empty bottles tipped on their sides and scattered across his own bar, across the floor. Three weeks, Maze had said. Three weeks of isolation while she’d torn down her reality in search of answers. _Again._

“And you don’t lie?” She knows the answer. She wouldn’t have asked if there was any uncertainty, too scared that he would lie just to get her to leave him be. Chloe searches the planes of his face, barely illuminated in the dim interior of his apartment, and watches him sit up a little straighter, look at her a little clearer.

“I do not lie,” he says finally. “Especially not to you.”

“Okay.” Chloe takes a step closer. He doesn’t move, so she continues toward him. Each footfall feels like it echoes, matching her steadying heartbeat. It breaks her heart, the way he looks at her, like she’s an animal that could be spooked. And sure, a few weeks ago, that might have been the case, but it’s him she’s trying not to scare. She reaches her hand out. “Come back?”

* * *

A warm static buzzes at the corner of her mind, growing larger and larger until it encompasses her own. She sees wings and scars and chains, and then Lucifer is beside her in the drift, a vast calmness spread out before them. “Hello, Chloe,” he says, and she turns her head to see him, grinning at her from behind his helmet. 

“That was great!” Ella says, her tinny voice reminding Chloe of where they actually were. “While you were gone, we made improvements to the weaponry. Named one of them Hellfire in honor of Lucifer.”

Chloe scans the controls to see what the programmed pattern was. As she does, she hears Lucifer’s voice echo through their connection. _Are you alright?_

 _Yeah,_ she replies, and the concern in his tone makes heat rise in her cheeks.

"Okay, guys, let's run through the basics again." At Dan's direction, they make their way through a series of maneuvers, and it feels like home. 

Chloe catches sight of a familiar memory, one from two years ago. The call that saved lives but not Lieutenant Graham's. Drifting toward it sends a lancing pain through her mind, but she has to know if she was right. She has to be right.

 _None of that, love,_ comes Lucifer's voice, and his hand is on her shoulder. _Come on back._

She casts a longing look at the memory. _It was right,_ she tells herself. _I was right._ And the rabbit hole is gone, shuttered behind doors of self doubt and locked with a confidence she hadn’t felt since making the call. 

_Your instincts are what keep you alive,_ Lucifer had told her one day over lunch. _It’s what keeps everyone in Los Angeles alive._

“Time to take this baby for a walk,” Dan says, and Chloe catches a wistful tone to his words. But as much as he misses being in the cockpit, she knows he’s grown to love his control room job. 

She flashes a grin toward Lucifer. “Come on.”

* * *

Whiptail goes down in an hour. The fight is hard, and Chloe’s heart aches for the destroyed coastline, the pier that falls to the ground, especially because part of it is because of them. They are always responsible for as much death and destruction as the kaiju. When they finally get back to the Shatterdome, they step out of the cockpit to cheering, and Ella wraps both of them into a hug. She doesn’t remember feeling this sore, this exhausted after a fight. But she lets herself be herded to her room, and falls asleep for an hour. 

When she wakes up, she feels empty. She’d always had Dan after a fight, had forgotten what it was like to leave the drift behind and have no one there for you. But she can’t tell whether it’s the emptiness or her boldness that makes her venture out of the Shatterdome in search of the one other person who must be feeling the same way.

She finds Lucifer in his apartment at Lux, seated at the piano and looking nothing like he’d just gone through a fight with a larger than life creature from the deep. Chloe supposes that he’s seen worse in Hell. He spins to catch sight of his visitor, and his smile grows wide and delighted at her presence. “Oh Lieutenant!”

It’s like a weight has been lifted from her chest, and she steps right into his bewildered arms without hesitation. He’s real, he’s okay, and even though she knew that when they left, she’s sure. “Come for a drink?” he asks once he’s figured out how to hug her back, once she knows he feels the tenseness of her muscles. 

Chloe shakes her head and shifts away, just far enough that she can kiss the concerned look from his face. His lips are divine, and she clutches at his collar, taking careful note of the way he leans to follow her lead. She’s been inside his head, she _knows_ this is his forte, and yet the experience is hers alone. It’s been too long, and she wants this so desperately that she presses against his warm lean body without another thought.

The glorious feeling only lasts a few seconds though, because he pulls away, holds her at a slight distance. “Chloe?” He’s resistant to her tugging, and far too tall for her to manage another kiss to anywhere but his jaw. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she says, and traces a path from his collar to his buttons. She nearly fumbles on the first button, but she manages to get three open before he’s holding her wrist in a death grip.

“Darling,” he says, and though his tone is not unkind, it is stern. “No.”

“No? But you’ve…” She feels her brashness slip away, feels the ache of exhaustion creep up her spine again. Almost unconsciously, her body slumps, listing toward his, and she finds herself wanting to disappear, just for a little bit.

His arms are strong when they gather her up. “Come on,” he says gently, guiding her across the space, up the three steps into his bedroom. Or what served as a bedroom, anyway. Chloe lets him bundle her onto the bed, though she bats his hands away when he tries to take off her shoes. Those she can handle herself, kicking them off and watching one topple down the stairs. While she works, Lucifer actually _turns down_ the sheets, the bastard, and Chloe is helpless to do anything but crawl beneath them.

“Why?” she manages to ask when the edge of the bed dips with his weight.

“Because I’ve been inside your head. And I’m, well, me.” His fingers play at the edge of the sheets. “You need rest.”  
  
“And you don’t?”

Lucifer flashes her a grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m the devil, darling. I don’t _need_ anything.”

She knows by now that he doesn’t lie, and she knows by now he could have everything in the world if he wanted it. But want and need are two different things, and her hand seeks his. Tiredness tugs at her again, and she can’t find the words she wants to say before she’s pulled under again.

* * *

Lucifer’s warm body is pressed against her when she wakes, bleary, to the sun that never seems to leave the city no matter what catastrophe befalls them. At some point in the middle of the night, she’d shucked her pants, and the sheets feel heavenly against her bare legs. She doesn’t know if she’s slept this well in, well, forever. Certainly not on the mattresses in the Shatterdome.

His breathing is even, and she wonders if he’s still asleep. But then his fingers card gently through her hair, and she hums. “Feeling better?” he asks, working out tangles like it’s second nature. His ministrations are just shy of making her drowsy again.

“Mmm.” She should get up. She’s probably already missed a meeting, but she can’t be bothered to check if anyone noticed. Chloe feels like she deserves this moment, whatever it is.

In the end, he makes the decision for her. “As much as I enjoy having you in my bed, darling, I think you have an urchin who needs your attention.” And then he climbs out of bed, the warmth immediately vanishing from her back, and Chloe whines. “Come on now,” he says.

Whatever softness she’d sensed is gone, and she pulls herself out of the heavenly cocoon of soft sheets and begins the hunt for her pants, which she finds at the foot of the bed. “Sorry,” she says once she’s dressed again, wishing she had an elastic to pull her hair back. Instead, she lets it hide her face, and what she supposes is a little bit of shame.

“No need to apologize.” Lucifer hands her her phone. He looks so at ease in his space, without the jacket he wears like armor, without the cufflinks she’s seen him fidget with, without the expensive shoes he’d once complained about having to swap out for drivesuit boots.

When she looks at the screen, she sees she has several missed calls. One from Munroe, and the rest from Dan. “I’ll see you later, then,” she replies, shoving the phone into her pocket. She’ll deal with them when she gets back. 

“Of course, Lieutenant.” 

She misses the way his shoulders drop when she leaves. 

* * *

When she asked why, he gave her that grin of self assuredness that did little to assuage her fears. "Because I'm immortal, Lieutenant," he said, and then softer, "because it's the right thing to do."

Her heart aches, she says _please_ and _don't go_ , says _I love you_ but she just gets silence in response, glassy eyes that tell her if he says one more word, it might break him. 

She can't bear to be in the control room for longer than she has to, can hear Ella and Dan calling after her when she flees. With nowhere else to go, she ends up at Lux, slipping through the back entrance and climbing the stairs to his home. It feels like an intrusion, but she doesn't care, finds a shirt hung carefully beside slacks and a waistcoat and pulls it on. There is nothing she can do but wait.

When he strides through the doors like nothing had happened, she doesn't wait any longer. Lucifer barely makes it three steps before she's against him, pulling him down for a kiss more desperate than she had planned. It's everything all at once, and she tries to ignore the smell of ozone that clouds around him, the seasalt dampness of his hair.

"Darling," he says, and his hand is warm against her cheek, his fingers gentle as they brush away tears. And this time, when her fingers fumble at his buttons, he doesn’t stop her. 

He smells faintly of brine and gunpowder, and she kisses his lips, his jaw, his neck, her own lips seeking revealed skin as if it would satiate the hunger that has buried itself so deep within her. She grows impatient by her own slowness and tugs just a bit too hard at his shirt, hears the faint pinging of buttons hitting the floor. But he doesn’t care.

“Darling,” he says again, and his hands find purchase at her hips, sliding under her shirt and holding her steady. When she looks up at him, she feels like she is drowning under his attention. “Bed,” he whispers against her lips.

Chloe lets herself be lifted, clutches at him like she might lose him again. He noses his way down her neck as he walks, presses kisses to her chest like it’s second nature, and lets her down onto his bed with gentle reverence. She divests herself of the shirt she wears, his shirt, and he looks upon her like he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life. 

She barely remembers her name, forgets time in the pleasure of his skin against hers. When white feathers erupt from his back, he can only manage a soft “oh” before she is kissing him again and again. It’s as if they are back in the drift and he is learning every inch of her. He crouches between her legs and tastes her and she comes undone over and over until they are tangled and satiated. Tomorrow, they will join their friends in the halls of the Shatterdome. Tonight, he is hers, and for the first time since her father died, Chloe feels light again. 


End file.
